


Fealty

by snowshus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowshus/pseuds/snowshus
Summary: “Are you going to overthrow me today, brother?”





	Fealty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elrhiarhodan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elrhiarhodan/gifts).



“Are you going to overthrow me today, brother?” Peter asks cheerfully as Caleb leads him down the corridor. 

“Mm, I drank bit too much last night, maybe tomorrow,” Caleb gives one of his usual excuses.

“I think I’d like to kept in the north tower when you do,” Peter muses.

“Don’t be silly, stairs again, the north would be terrible for you. The latrines are that way, it would smell awful and you’d have to listen to the gates opening and closing all day. I’ve already picked out a cell for you in the east tower. You can hear the ocean and there’s a nest of birds just outside the window for you to make friends with.”

They stop walking and Peter the creak of a heavy door opening. Something’s not right, the corridor echos strangely for it be the great hall where they were supposed to be going. Peter wasn’t paying attention while they were walking but thinking back there were too many stairs and in the distance he can hear the faint beating of the surf.

“Caleb?”

Caleb hand wraps around his forearm squeezing tightly, not painfully but as though he’s trying to say something with the touch alone.

“Soon the rightful king will rule.”

He is being pushed back and there’s a brush of air as the heavy door closes with a loud bang. Then Peter is alone. 

The room is just as Caleb had described. The sound of the ocean can be heard in the distance and near the far wall Peter can hear the occasional chirp of small birds. Peter begins to explore the room, running his hands along the wall until he comes to the door. He half-heartedly tries the latch, unsurprised when the door remains stubbornly shut.

The room is comfortably small with a bed and a little table and chair made of soft wood that gives easily under the pressure of his nails. Caleb really does think of everything.

In the morning the birds nesting outside start squawking and Peter makes a mark in the wood of the table. He spends most his time in quiet contemplation or trying to feed the birds through the window. Sometimes he hears footsteps outside which pause by his door but they never speak and he never calls out to them. 

There are thirty three little indentations on his table when the door opens. 

“It’s done,” Caleb says, and it has been a full month since Peter heard his voice. He almost doesn’t recognize him. 

Peter stands carefully. “Caleb?”

“Your generals are loyal and the court has been cleared of snakes. There is only one loose end left.” Caleb has taken Peter’s hand and placed the heavy hilt of sword in it.

“What are you talking about?” Peter feels Caleb’s hands wrapped around his hand and the hilt and there’s something pressing against the other end of the sword.

“You just need one show of strength, and they will all fall in line.”

“No!” Peter shouts jerking his hand away and the sword hits the chair as it clatters to the ground.

“As long as I live someone will try to use me against you.” Caleb reasons.

“So I should sacrifice my most loyal subject to them? No. I refuse.” 

In the corridor outside Peter can hear the thundering of footsteps. He reaches down to pick up the sword, nicking his finger on blade before he finds the hilt and lifts it. He moves slowly until he feels it press against Caleb’s arm and raises it slowly following the curves of his body until it rest against his neck. 

“Kneel.”

Caleb drops to his knees and Peter lets the sword follow with him. 

“Who is the true king?” Peter demands as the footsteps come to a stop outside his cell door.

“You are.” Caleb replies.

“Swear your undying loyalty to me, upon our mother’s grave, and you shall be forgiven.”

“I swear it.” 

“Say the words.”

“I swear loyalty to you, my brother, my king. Upon our mother’s grave no harm shall come to you as long as I breathe.”

Peter draws the sword away, letting it hang by his side.

“Who is out there?” He demands of the gathered crowd. There’s a low murmur before someone steps forward with the cling of metal shoes.

“It is Loralie, of Dale, I lead your army. We’d come to rescue you, too late apparently.” She adds with a lilting tone of humor.

“Loralie of Dale please escort me to my throne room, and see that my brother is taken care of.”

“Of course your majesty.”

He steps forward and rests his hand on Caleb’s shoulder as he passes, squeezing it lightly. It is the only thanks he can give in front of the onlookers.


End file.
